


My Darling Delilah

by BisexualRoger (HyperPluviophile)



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cats, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gratuitous Cat Fluff, It's a little weird but it's still better than that godawful Cats film, Jimcury, Kensington Market Era Queen, M/M, Magic, Queen get turned into cats by a witch that's basically all you need to know, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 23:41:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20554616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyperPluviophile/pseuds/BisexualRoger
Summary: “I suppose you’re going to need a name if I’m going to keep you” He says, petting the cat, who mews contentedly back at him “How about Delilah? How do you feel about that?”Lonely bachelor Jim Hutton adopts four stray cats and finds a family.Or- The one where Queen get cursed by a witch and kitten related hijinks ensue.





	My Darling Delilah

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emma_and_orlando](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emma_and_orlando/gifts).

> Well this is a long time coming. I started writing this towards the end of July as some kind of borderline crackfic for my own amusement, and then somehow it became a serious fluff fic with a plot. I don't know how that happened, but here we are. 
> 
> Ahahaha I just hope it's not too bad, and if you spot any spelling or grammar mistakes (or parts where I've just totally switched off my brain) please let me know because I don't have a beta and proofreading makes me want to break my own fingers 💕 Anyway I hope you enjoy xx

It’s normal to be lonely when your mother dies. Perhaps less so if you’re twenty three and still living at home, or maybe perhaps even more so. This is the sort of thing Jim Hutton contemplates on his way to and from work. For while it’s not unusual for young adults with jobs to live alone, the fact that he never got around to moving out makes closing his front door on the busy streets of London and finding himself in an empty house every evening just a little harder than it might perhaps be otherwise. Strange that the largest city in Britain can feel so empty.

Nevertheless there’s very little he can do about his loneliness. And so at the very least he tries not to dwell on it, even though at times it proves challenging.

Incidentally, it’s while trying not to think about the silent house awaiting him one day that Jim passes the Kensington High Street bus stop on the way home from a perfectly ordinary day at work. And it’s at said bus stop that he’s greeted by a cat. Not just any cat, but the prettiest he’s ever seen. Pitch black with large brown eyes, and a soft voice that it’s using to mewl at the various passers by, who pay it very little mind.

At this time of day the general London populus is likely too busy to stop for a random street cat. Not least because strays and such are about as common as double decker busses. However he himself _not_ being the general London populus, Jim stops. He’s never been able to resist the urge to merely walk past a cat as opposed to petting it and, with nowhere else to be except home, today proves to be no exception.

“Hello” He crouches down to its level. The cat wastes no time nuzzling up against his leg, purring under his fingertips when he leans over to stroke it “You’re very sweet aren’t you?”

Closer inspection reveals the cat doesn’t have a name tag. For near central London that’s unsurprising; as aforementioned, there’s more than a few stray cats wandering the city. But this one looks so healthy and is so tame that he’s inclined to believe it can’t be feral. He scratches it gently behind the ear “Are you lost dear?”

The cat meows in response, leaning into his touch.

It’s so incredibly cute that try as he might, Jim can’t help but be tempted to take it home. Either there’s someone out there looking for it, in which case it’s only right that he should take care of the cat until someone claims them, or its homeless in which case he shouldn’t just leave it on the streets. It just makes sense. His loneliness has nothing to do with it. Absolutely nothing.

Having made up his mind he’s about to scoop the cat into his arms when there’s a loud, pointed hissing from behind him. Turning round he’s greeted by three more cats, fur bristling and tails flicking irritably back and forth as they close in. The one closest to Jim, a fluffy sandy coloured tabby with startling blue eyes, snarls, meanwhile the other two, a larger cat that appears somewhat chubby at a distance but upon closer inspection is merely covered with a thick crop of curly fur and a tiny chestnut brown kitten, continue to hiss.

With the three of them closing in the black one rapidly backs away to hide behind Jim’s legs. Concurrently Jim prepares to separate the four cats during the fight he’s assuming is about to break out between them. That’s what he’s expecting to happen at any rate, what he’s not anticipating is for the group to begin meowing back and forth to one another. With interruptions and pauses and various noises that appear to be replies, if Jim didn’t know any better he’d say it sounds like an argument. It’s so immensely bizarre that all he can really do is stand and watch.

Over the next five minutes the other three lose their angry demeanour, until eventually the black cat slinks out from behind Jim to join them, where he’s greeted warmly.

But as they leave the black cat looks over its shoulder at him with something that’s almost sadness. And then they disappear around a corner and Jim’s stood alone by the bus stop.

Over the next three weeks he can’t help but ponder the encounter. Not often, just every morning on his way past the bus stop, and every night when he heads home, and sometimes when he’s on his lunch break, and occasionally late at night when he can’t sleep. Why were they angry at the black cat? What sentiments were exchanged between them? What do cats even have to argue about? Can cats forgive?

He doesn’t have any answers. Regardless he doesn’t see the quartet again for the entirety of those aforementioned three weeks, and that’s enough time for him to begin wondering if perhaps he exaggerated the encounter in his head. He’s pretty sure he read somewhere once that animal lovers are prone to misinterpreting the behaviour of cats and dogs and the like as being something more meaningful than it actually is. The idea that he himself created this complex emotional narrative in his head sounds far more plausible, albeit much more disappointingly mundane, than the explanation that states he witnessed some sort of soap opera style cat fight. So with that in mind Jim begrudgingly moves on with his lonely life.

A month after the encounter and he’s heading back home past the very same bus stop. From a distance there’s nothing particularly different about it, but Jim finds himself beaming when he draws nearer and spies several distinct small shapes beside it. The cats have returned. However his joy is dimmed slightly when he realises that there’s only three of them- The pretty black one, the blonde one and the tiny one, with the fluffy brown cat noticeably absent. Not that it necessarily means anything, but he’s a little confused if not slightly concerned.

And his suspicion that something is wrong is only confirmed when they all suddenly make a beeline for him. Before Jim can so much as react he’s swarmed by the trio, who begin acousting him with something that’s almost mania; the kitten bites at his trouser leg in an attempt to tug him forward and behind him the blonde is headbutting the back of his ankles, and all the while the black one circles his feet, emitting sharp urgent whines. Their distress is practically tangible.

Ridiculous as it may seem Jim thus can’t shake the feeling that they want to lead him somewhere. Which again seems absurd and he’s quite possibly going crazy but the black cat is looking at him with such heartbreakingly sad eyes and he just can’t bring himself to walk away. Pausing to reprimand himself for the bizarre direction his life is about to go, Jim takes a deep breath and begins to walk.

Thankfully this prompts the cats to stop assaulting him, and together the three sprint on ahead down the street, stopping regularly to check that Jim’s still following. They lead him down the road towards the Kensington market, closed today on account of it being midweek. As usual the London roads are jammed with people, but luckily most are so caught up in their own destinations that no one pays the man tailing a pack of cats much attention.

Once inside the market square the trio stops in front of a boarded up shop front. There’s dust all around the windows and a handwritten sign bearing the words “Closed until further notice” in a deep sparkly purple.

“You want me to go in there?” He asks. If he’s being honest he’d absolutely rather not. The whole place oozes of the unnatural. Just looking at it is sending cold chills down his spine.

Unfortunately however the three cats have already disappeared through a hole in the nearest window, meaning there can be no question that this is indeed where they intended to lead him. For a moment Jim’s unsure as to how he himself is meant to get inside, but then there’s a clicking from inside the building and then the rusty front door swings open.

It takes a minute or so for his eyes to adjust, but once they do he’s greeted by a mess of haphazardly stacked boxes and clothes, the likes of which he’s never seen before. To his immediate left sits a cobweb covered desk, bearing a sign that reads “Freddie and Roger’s Vintage Emporium” in a scrawl far too fancy to be an accurate reflection of the current state of the interior of the shop.

Well, whoever Freddie and Roger are they must be long gone. The more Jim stares into the decay, the more intense his suspicion that something really isn’t right here. Leaving behind the desk (and more importantly, attempting to leave behind the inexplicable feeling of melancholy it’s given him) he wanders further inside.

Past further boxes and moth bitten clothes the cats eventually lead Jim to a small back room, complete with a spider infested sink, mildew coated kettle and faded arm chair. Strangely enough, there's also a guitar, red and dull and looking as though it hasn’t been touched in years. Decades even. But this isn’t what catches Jim’s attention; on the aforementioned armchair lies a shape, a shape that for a horrifying moment he thinks might be the corpse of the missing cat until mercifully it emits a weak mewling and lifts its head.

The other three cats jump up onto the chair to join it, brushing up against it gently they take great care to avoid its front leg, which Jim can now see is bloodied and grimy and looking decidedly worse for wear. Even without taking a moment to examine the injury further Jim can clearly see that the poor thing needs proper medical attention, and it’s not exactly as if he can simply phone a vet and ask them to come to a creepy abandoned vintage emporium. Hence, with little hesitation he scoops the injured cat into his arms and strides back towards the shop front, unsurprisingly followed by the trio.

As he marches back through the front door he’s again- despite his own fears that he’s going to attract some unwanted attention- paid very little mind by the general public at large. It’s fine. He’s a normal man leaving a normal derelict shop with a perfectly normal cat. Just another normal Wednesday in London. Or perhaps it’s the natural British tendency to aggressively mind one’s business to the point of apathy. Whatever the cause for his apparent invisibility Jim’s not going to wait around questioning it. Time to go to the vets, via home.

However, Jim’s barely taken one step in the direction of his own house before he’s stopped, not by a suspicious lay-man or concerned police officer but by a frantic nipping at his ankles. Craning his neck to look down he spies the yellow cat, who upon making eye contact with him tosses its head in the general vague direction of the emporium door. It takes him a moment to understand. But as soon as he does he feels both slightly stupid for having not thought of this earlier, and once again disturbed at the logical reasoning these cats must have. Making sure he’s got a good enough grip on the injured feline in his hand he manages to carefully pull the shop door closed behind him, sealing all the clothes, furniture and abandoned guitar safely inside and away from prying eyes.

Now satisfied the blonde cat moves on ahead, and thus the unusual group begins to make its way through London.

At home Jim places the injured cat down on the sofa and heads into the hall to begin rootling through the cupboard under the stairs. Having once belonged to his mother (A woman almost as cat loving as he himself) the house contains many of her old belongings, including a cat box once used by her beloved pet Bonnie. Both woman and cat being now long gone the cage hasn’t seen much use for several years, but aside from being a little dusty it should be perfect.

It’s with very little fuss or trouble that the fluffy brown cat allows itself to be lifted inside. Having fought with Bonnie prior to many a trip to the vet (at one point having to physically retrieve her from under the bed) Jim’s temporarily pleased at how easy this is presumably going to be. But his relief proves to be premature as, apparently not wanting to be left out, the black cat also slinks into the cage, where it sits unperturbed.

With a smile Jim reaches in to drag it out, only to find that while he’s been distracted the yellow one has snuck in. Unlike the first cat however this one bites and scratches and snarls at him when he tries to pull it out of the cage. Thus begins an irritating ten minutes where the black and yellow cat form a sort of tag team; as soon as he’s pulled one out the other clambours in, and in the end he has to shut both of them in the kitchen if he has any hope of getting to the vets before closing time.

With some peace at last Jim is finally able to close the cage door and put the cat into what was formerly his mother’s car. While work may be in walking distance, the nearest vet is at least a mile and a half away, and the poor cat probably doesn’t want to be jostled all the way there.

It being already quite late in the evening the vets is practically empty when Jim arrives. There’s barely any time for him to fill out all the necessary forms (an arduous process given that he knows next to nothing about the cat beside him) and have an idle flick through a leaflet about the dangers of ringworm before he’s being summoned through.

Leaving the box open on the counter behind him Jim hands the wounded cat to the vet's assistant, who briefly takes down its weight and vital signs and then places it on the central table. As opposed to being frightened or aggressive the poor thing just sits there with its head lowered, looking decidedly dejected at the whole affair. Almost a little humiliated even. It’d be almost funny if Jim wasn’t more than a little worried that there’s going to be nothing the vet can do.

“And who do we have here?” Asks the vet brightly upon entering.

“I found him today, I think he’s a stray” Explains Jim.

“Mm hm” She wastes no time in lifting the cat. Turning him over every which way, with a gentle swiftness that suggests several years of experience. Then just as abruptly she puts it down again and says briskly “Well I can tell you now he’s definitely a boy. And no older than a year, if that. He also doesn’t have a microchip, which means he’s likely been a stray for most of, if not all, his life” She gestures towards her assistant, who scampers off presumably to fetch something or other “As for the leg” Continues the vet “I’m happy to say it looks far worse than it is. Once it’s cleaned and wrapped he ought to make a full recovery, but I’m going to prescribe a course of amoxicillin just to be on the safe side”

Jim opens his mouth to respond but he’s interrupted by the assistant vet cooing “Aw, who’s this?” from behind him. Turning round he finds the tiny kitten sat atop the open cage, having remarkably managed to sneak into the box unnoticed during all the commotion. He stares at it, and it in turns stares back at him with its head tilted to one side as if its thinking “Yes. I’m here. What’re you going to do about it now?”

“Oh” Jim laughs “That’s a stowaway”

“That’s so cute” The assistant grins.

“Is he also a stray?” Asks the vet, looking the kitten up and down from across the room. Jim nods “Well while he’s here we might as well do a brief checkup on him too” She gestures towards her assistant, who passes her a roll of bandages before whisking the kitten away to check his vitals, pupils and coat.

Meanwhile the vet has begun scraping the wound clean. With an infinite, if downtrodden form of patience the cat kicks up very little fuss. He keeps his gaze locked on the wall opposite him, eyes almost appearing to scan the medicinal posters plastering them, and with the exception of a few stifled winces seems wholly unaffected by the affair. It’s yet another baffling display of behaviour. Even Jim’s mothers old Bonnie (the most good natured cat he’d ever known) had been prone to understandable meltdowns at the vet. It’s only natural that while in pain even the sweetest of animals will instinctively attempt to get away. And yet this one is handling it with a dignity even Jim himself might struggle to possess if it was his arm being so thoroughly cleaned.

“He’s very docile isn’t he?” Remarks the vet as she begins to wrap the now clean wound, confirming Jim’s suspicions that there’s something not quite normal about this. However before he can pursue the matter further the assistant returns.

“He’s in great condition for a stray. A little underweight but that’s an easy fix” She smiles, passing the kitten over to Jim, who returns the grin as he puts the tiny thing back inside the cage.

Having finished bandaging the vet similarly hands Jim the fluffy brown one, but then pauses.

“Has he been neutered?” She asks

Almost immediately the cat in Jim’s arms starts howling and scrabbling, meanwhile the little one begins to mewl inside the cage. It’s the first sign of distress either has shown. Almost as if they not only understood every word of that sentence but decidedly do not like the implications of it one bit.

“Not sure” Replies Jim, struggling to contain the cat who’s desperately trying to make a bid for freedom “Don’t worry about it now. I think he’s had enough for today”

As soon as the words leave his mouth the animal relaxes. In fact if he didn’t know any better he’d say it audibly sighs with relief. Hence he knows he’s made the right decision and regardless, he doesn’t have the money to cover that kind of vet bill. He’s already paying for the checkup and the amoxicillin. And while he’d never begrudge a penny to an injured animal he also needs to be able to eat for the next week.

So with a few more forms (and a noticeably emptier bank account) Jim leaves the vets with his cats in tow. It’d been a surreal and slightly expensive ordeal but it was completely worth it now the two are curled around each other contentedly in the box, the injured one in particular looking reassuringly tranquil.

And the trip to the vets only becomes more rewarding upon their arrival home. The pair whom Jim had shut in the kitchen come bounding into the living room, and just like that the quartet is meowing and squealing excitedly at one another with a tangible relief that’s almost human like in its tenderness. None pay much attention to Jim, but he’s more than happy to simply watch their displays of affection after what’s presumably been a fairly stressful day for all four of them.

As he watches them however he’s reminded of the vets comments about the tiny one being underweight; no longer distracted by his worry for the injured cat he can now see that all of them appear somewhat malnourished.

So, upon entering the kitchen, Jim digs around in the fridge until he eventually finds some precooked chicken. It’ll do until he can get to the shops tomorrow. Once again using an old cat bowl found in the cupboard under the stairs he divides it into four piles, ready to separate them if the cats become too aggressive or possessive with the portions, but assuming that based on the quartets general affectionate relationship he won’t have to.

However once he's successfully herded the four out of the living room his heart sinks when he realises something’s wrong. Unlike the other three (who attack the chicken as if they haven’t eaten for days) the injured one turns his head away and sits moodily with his back to the bowl.

Jim crouches beside him “You don’t want it? Hm?” The cat looks up at him sadly and he pets it on the head “What’s wrong dear?”

The cat whines. In response the pretty one stops eating and pads over to investigate. Meows are exchanged and then all of a sudden the black cat hops over to the nearest cupboard, scratching at the wood until a bemused Jim opens the door for him. Once inside the cat knocks multiple tins out before emerging triumphantly with a can of tuna looking noticeably pleased with himself.

“You’ll eat this?” Asks Jim, and the injured cat meows happily.

As he’s opening the tin and scraping the fish into a bowl he can’t help but chuckle to himself at the ridiculousness. A pescetarian cat. Fair enough. It’s far from the strangest thing he’s seen over the course of the last twelve hours so he’s not going to spend too long questioning it. Particularly not now all four of his rescues are eating side by side happily. He spends a minute or two watching them, and then, satisfied that they’ll be fine without his supervision for a moment, goes to make himself some dinner.

Later, again with the injured cat in his arms and the other three following suit, Jim heads out into the darkening garden. It’s his custom to take a moment to appreciate the outdoor world after dinner. His grandmother used to say that people who spend half an hour with nature a day live on average fifty percent longer than those who don’t, and while he’s not exactly sure that’s scientifically accurate, he agrees with the sentiment. And it’ll be nice to get to spend tonight’s outdoor moment with his newfound friends, hence the cats are coming too.

In the garden Jim places the fluffy brown cat down on the bench and takes a seat. They’re joined also by the black cat, who perches delicately beside Jim and watches as the other two wander off down the garden path.

While the injured cat naps in the last vestiges of the evening sun Jim and the pretty one sit side by side, and it’s here that he realises there’s something very important he’s forgotten to do.

“I suppose you’re going to need a name if I’m going to keep you” He says, petting the cat, who mews contentedly back at him. Looking it up and down he knows that whatever name he picks must reflect its grace and elegance “How about Delilah?” He asks “How do you feel about that?”

Beneath his finger tips Delilah purrs and Jim laughs. Turning his attention to the sleeping kitten on his left he strokes it lightly “And what about Oscar? How does that suit you?”

The brown cat opens one eye and mews disinterestedly before going back to sleep again. Jim takes that as a yes. So Oscar and Delilah. Then there’s the other two, who’re currently following a frog back up the garden path. They’re not exactly bothering it per say but every so often the yellow one will bat a paw in its general direction, never hitting it but coming teasingly close and sending the amphibian springing up into the air. Until now Jim’s fairly sure he’s never seen a cat laugh, but he’s almost certain that’s what the pair of them are doing.

“And I suppose those two… Hm. The lively one can be Romeo and the smaller one can be Clyde” He says, pleased with his choices. As a boy his uncle had owned a tiny kitten called Clyde, and Romeo seems fitting for a cat that appears to be a little impulsive. Next to him Delilah voices her agreement with a soft mewl.

As she continues to do for the next ten minutes every time Jim remarks on something, whether it be his opinion on the television or a gripe about work. Whatever he says she responds without fail, and by the time Clyde and Romeo have grown bored of the frog and returned to the bench he’s laughing too hard at the absurdity of it all to continue making commentary.

So he merely watches with great amusement as Delilah begins to fuss over Clyde, making small affectionate noises as she looks him over. Maybe they’re other and kitten, he thinks, but then again Delilah doesn’t look old enough. Plus there’s a lack of resemblance between them. It’s another mystery alongside the many that’ve been raised today- How do the four know one another and why are they so tight knit? It seems unlikely that they’re from the same family or litter.

Regardless as the five of them sit side by side on the bench the temperature begins to drop rapidly, the sun now being fully set behind the line of houses on the horizon. There also appears to be something of a spot of rain in the air, hence Jim decides it’s time they began to make their way back inside. Standing up he turns to face the cats, who (seemingly understanding his intentions) similarly stand, stretching and yawning as they look expectantly at him. That is all except for Oscar, who continues to nap obliviously.

Noticing this Romeo makes his way over to the injured cat and- with an almost admirable disregard- stands on his back with two paws and mews at him until he wakes up. Oscar blinks moodily at him, giving a lazy hiss before closing his eyes again. This only makes the blonde cat more insistent, and when he fails to rouse the larger cat for a second time Delilah joins in. Working together it doesn’t take the pair long to collectively annoy him into getting up, although not without much hissing and snarling from the disgruntled party. When he finally does make it up onto his feet he’s more than a little unsteady.

Feeling guilty for laughing at the way he staggers Jim once more takes pity on him and lifts him into his arms so that he can carry him back inside.

As a nice contrast to the crisp evening air the living room is comfortably warm, so it’s here that he decides to lead his posse of cats. Having been largely unoccupied since his mother died the quartet waste little time making themselves comfortable on her old armchair, likely on account of it being either undoubtedly the comfiest item of furniture in the room or that most similar to the chair he’d found at the vintage emporium.

If only Jim owned a proper camera; in almost no time at all the four are an indistinguishable sleepy pile of fur that’s so unbearably cute he just wants to capture the image permanently. As it stands however he has to settle for merely watching them, until eventually he’s able to drag himself away from the utter picture of cosiness that the quartet and currently making, and begin preparing for bed.

Having donned his pyjamas and settled down for some light reading, Jim’s three chapters into his book before he’s disturbed by a soft mewing from outside the door. A telltale black paw bats it open, and there stands Delilah, blinking sheepishly at him. Today has therefore managed to yield not only a pescetarian cat but an insomniac one too. Fair enough. He pats the covers beside him and she eagerly sprints up onto the bed. Settling herself down beside his arm she leans over towards his book, almost as if she’s trying to decipher the letters. Later when he attempts to turn the page she places her paw atop his hand and prevents him from doing so for a moment, until for seemingly no reason she releases him again and lets him continue reading.

He chuckles, “You’re a very strange cat” Scratching behind her ear as she meows softly in response.

Over the next few weeks Jim and Delilah and Oscar and Romeo and Clyde settle into their own little household routine. He himself wakes up at around half seven every week day, and is greeted first thing in the kitchen by Clyde, the only morning cat out of the entire quartet. He’ll wander in on his own terms (usually while Jim is making his first cup of tea of the day) give a brief hello and then disappear again, often to the garden. Usually the other three trail in at around eight, just as Jim is putting their breakfast down and doing his shoes up. Not even Delilah can be counted upon to be civil at this time of day, and it’s not uncommon that Jim leaves for work without hearing a single meow from her as she sleepily makes a beeline for the food bowl.

However the lack of attention he receives from her in the morning is more than compensated for by her enthusiasm when he gets home. From the time he first steps through the front door to the minute he gets into bed Delilah’s there at his heels, mewing in response to whatever he says with varying pitches and tones, to the point where he can identify what’s an affirmative, what’s a negative, what’s indifference and what’s a sort of “I don’t know the answer” kind of response. Even when he’s doing something as mundane as making tea she’s got an opinion.

Both Oscar and Romeo are also far more receptive in the evening after work. The former always joins him for his evening relaxation, meanwhile the latter demonstrates a surprising talent for locating Jim’s glasses whenever he happens to lose them. Which is embarrassingly frequently. However with the pairs increase in energy comes the unfortunate fact that come the evening they’re also more likely to clash with one another. The first time they’d broke out into a physical fight, Jim, in genuine fear that the snarling duo were going to do real damage to one another, had shut both of them at opposite ends of the house until late into the night. What cats have to fight about like that he has no idea, but now he’s more familiar with the two he knows that regardless of how angry they may become they’ll always make up in time for the customary hour of television at the end of each evening.

Before he’d adopted the four Jim had rarely watched tv on account of the fact that it was something he’d liked to do with his mother, and as a result it’s something he can’t help but see as a social activity. Now however, with four new companions with which to enjoy the magic box (as his late parent called it) it’s become a key part of his daily ritual.

As a general rule they’ll watch Antiques Roadshow when it’s on, and The Sky at Night when it isn’t, and woe betide Jim if he so much as thinks about putting the football on. Apparently his cats aren’t huge fans of the beautiful game, not that he himself is either, but the one time he’d made the mistake of selecting a sports channel he’d been accosted by four varied whines and hisses of protest that hadn’t stopped until he’d changed the channel.

Presumably to balance out his early morning tendencies Clyde is usually asleep before the end of the hour. Sometimes he’ll nod off sat upright, his head lolling forward as he tries desperately to stay awake, much to the amusement of his companions, who’ll laugh but frequently find themselves in a similar position not too long after.

By the end of the hour Oscar and Romeo will be settled on the armchair beside Clyde, and Delilah will follow Jim to his room, where they’ll finish off the day with a chapter or two of the Great Gatsby. Although typically a solo activity Jim finds that reading has become especially more enjoyable when coupled with a particularly vocal cat. Whether it be hissing when the villain appears or meowing joyfully during the moments of excitement she’s the perfect reading companion. Hence this last ritual is always the best part of the day.

It’s weekend mornings however that are truly the highlight of their little routine. With no responsibilities or obligations it’s on Saturdays and Sundays that Jim allows himself an extra two hours in bed with the radio. And not a weekend goes by that he’s not joined in his room by all four of his cats, who seem to take more collective delight in listening to music than in anything else. Side by side they sit; Clyde bobbing up and down, Romeo hitting the bed with his paw in time to the beat, Oscar mewling along to the guitar parts and Delilah imitating the vocals with a striking amount of accuracy for cat.

So they continue, content in their schedule which changes little over the next few weeks until one fateful evening. Having only just got in from work a particularly gruelling day at work Jim heads straight for the bathroom, hoping for a nice relaxing hot shower, and instead upon opening the door finds it already occupied.

There sat around the edge of a slowly filling bath (looking far too pleased with themselves) are his four cats. Beside them an overturned bottle of bubble bath is spilling its contents into the water and sending up clouds of bubbles. There’s silence. The quartet stares at him. Jim, paralysed with bemusement, stares back.

He’s stood there in nothing but a towel while his bath is currently being occupied by his pets. Just a regular morning in the Hutton household. Still too stunned for words he mutely steps forward and turns the tap off.

Delilah looks up at him and gives a grateful meow. Then in one swift move she kicks Romeo off the edge of the bath with her back leg, sending him unexpectedly sprawling into the water. However in that split second she miscalculates, giving him a crucial window in which to knock her legs out from under her and pull her into the bath after him. When the two emerge from under the water a moment later they’re both doing that laughing thing again, and their amusement only grows when barely a second after Clyde (Who’d been attempting to go in carefully) slips and falls face first in with a yelp.

Jim is lost for words. Even when he’s certain he catches Oscar rolling his eyes he still has nothing to say. Absolutely nothing. All he wanted was a shower after work.

It’s only when Delilah very clearly and deliberately points at the shampoo bottle with her paw that he’s shaken out of his stupor. The last few weeks have been so utterly bizarre and this icing on the cake is what tips him over into the territory of slightly hysterical. Suddenly he’s laughing so hard that he can barely breathe, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes as he cackles at the sight before him, and every time he manages to somewhat stop the sight of all four cats staring at him like he’s lost his mind sets him off all over again. If only his mother were here to see this.

“You’re all very strange cats” He wheezes when he’s finally regained some composure “But I’m not washing you with shampoo. Not least because you’ve used up all of my expensive bubble bath- Which was a gift by the way- but because you’re cats. I’m not cleaning my cats with shampoo”

There’s another pause. Then they’re all laughing, man and cat alike.

They stay giggling at the most ridiculous things until the water starts to run cold and Oscar’s shivering so hard he can barely stand up. At which point Jim decides it’s high time he reclaimed his bathroom. He’s been waiting for a shower for at least thirty minutes and he’s definitely going to be late for work if he doesn’t get a move on. So after carefully bundling them out in towels one by one and unplugging the bath he finally manages to have a wash.

Upon entering the living room once clean he’s unsurprised to find his quartet of cats sleeping together on the seat of the armchair.

They might be strange but they’re his. Flicking the lights off with a small smile to himself he begins to head back up the stairs, only to be stopped halfway by a meow. Turning he sees that Delilah has extracted herself from the group and is following him up the stairs. Apparently not even the allure of a warm, freshly clean cuddle pile is enough to keep her from their daily reading of the Great Gatsby.

“Come on then” Beams Jim. Delilah meows happily and all but jumps into his arms, nuzzling into his chest as he carries her the rest of the way up the stairs.

Upon being set down on the bed she wastes no time claiming a pillow and a surprising amount of space for such a small cat. If she weren’t so cute her ability to lounge would be almost irritating.

Jim shakes his head with an affectionate smile “You’re so spoiled” Even though the both of them know that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Stops and gives Delilah the smallest kiss on the top of her head. It’s such a casual gesture that if anyone were to point out to Jim that this was in fact the first time he’d ever done so he’d probably be surprised. Not as surprised however as he is when it happens.

Out of nowhere, as soon as his lips leave her head, there’s a shimmering purple light, so bright Jim has to shield his eyes from the glare as it burns away. Even when as it’s fading it’s still so vibrant that he doesn’t dare remove his hands from his eyes until he’s certain it’s gone, his brain reeling into panic mode all the while. Either he’s dreaming or his cat just exploded. Neither of these is a desirable situation.

However once he's opened his eyes he’s almost certain that the former explanation must be right, because there’s absolutely no way this can be real, because sat on the bed where Delilah was only moments ago is… A man. A young looking man in a black faux fur coat and skin tight leather trousers, his thick black hair falling graciously around his shoulders. The strangers expression is one of both immense relief and total panic as he looks at Jim and with a wince declares “Right. This might be a little difficult to explain”

“You’re a man” Stutters Jim. That’s all his brain can come up with.

“Ah yes. Well you never checked” The man gives him a cringing smile “Not that I’m not glad that you didn’t, and Delilah’s such a pretty name, but-“

“You were a cat. Now you’re a man” Repeats Jim.

The man opens his mouth to reply but closes it abruptly when there’s an almighty cras from downstairs, followed immediately by excited shouting. Several pairs of feet come thundering up the stairs and barely a moment later the bedroom door is thrown open.

In the doorway stands a figure with shoulder length blonde hair and bright blue eyes and a giant grin on his face “Fucking finally!” He throws his arms around Delilah, or rather, the man who was Delilah, and tackles him flat onto the bed.

“Christ it took you long enough!” Says another voice over the sounds . Heralding the entrance of a man with a distinct crop of brown curly hair and a bandage around his hand

He’s followed by another figure, this one almost as tall but waif like in his proportions and with an incredibly youthful face “How did you manage to-“ Begins the man, and then he makes eye contact with Jim.

Whatever question he was about ask dies in his throat, and similarly the pair on the bed fall silent. All four pairs of eyes are on Jim. Which is lucky he supposes, because it’s at this point that his nerves decide it’s all too much. One moment he’s stood beside the bed and the next he’s flat on his back on the floor, vision blurring out as his four former housepets crowd around him. It’s an image that’s unsurprisingly unhelpful and only hastens his loss of consciousness.

It’s almost a shame really. If he’d just evicted them from the bathroom and had his shower today would’ve been a perfectly normal day just like any other. But alas, hindsight proves yet again to be the ultimate provider of clarity.

Which is why Jim is now sat in his armchair clutching a cup of tea that his cats have just brought him. His cats who are now men. Four young men dressed like they’ve just left a vogue shoot. He swallows the lump in his throat “One more time, just so I… Just so I can-“

Oscar, who isn’t really called Oscar but rather is named Brian, sighs sympathetically from where he’s stood by the fireplace “It’s Freddie’s fault”

“Hey! It could just as easily been Rog’s fault” Cuts in Delilah. Well, Freddie. Out of all of them he’s stood closest to Jim, alternating between quietly looking apologetic and nervously tugging at his fingernails “We sell vintage clothes at Kensington market” He explains

“Freddie and Roger’s vintage emporium” Says Jim numbly, and the other man nods.

“Precisely”

“They’re not actually vintage clothes. They’re whatever these two can sell as vintage” Adds John dryly. Looking at him with his soft features and reserved demeanour it’s hard not for Jim to see him as Clyde the kitten.

Freddie shoots John a look “So sometime ago I was trying to sell this lovely young woman a pair of boots. Genuine vintage leather, 19th century-”

“They were nice” Agrees the blonde, whose name is Roger not Romeo. Close enough thinks Jim.

“-And I was going to sell them for the utterly reasonable price of around fifty-”

Brian scoffs “Fuck off that is absolutely unreasonable. You glued the sole back onto the boot the night before, there’s no way they would’ve lasted”

“That’s unfair…” Argues Freddie. Albeit with a noticeable lack of conviction.

“You were ripping her off” Says Brian sternly.

“So she turned you into cats?” Jim wishes his voice didn’t sound so small.

“Yes” Nods Freddie “That does seem to be the jist of it”

“All of you?”

“Some of us happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time” Mutters John. His slight shared glance with Brian makes it abundantly clear who in particular here feels themselves to be the victims, and who should shoulder the majority of the blame.

Either oblivious to the duos animosity or simply choosing to ignore it, Freddie nods “Yes I think it was some kind of all encompassing curse”

“Right....” The word doesn’t sound as though it’s coming out of Jim’s own mouth.  
His beautiful Delilah, who is in fact a young man studying art at university, was turned into a cat alongside three other university students (who also happen to be members of an up and coming band) by a witch unhappy with a pair of vintage boots.

No. Sadly it doesn’t make more sense the more he thinks about it, no matter how slowly his brain rakes over the details.

Luckily he doesn’t get much time to wallow in his confusion as out of nowhere there’s a sudden cry of anguish “Oh my god the red special!” Cries Brian, alarm in his eyes “She’s-! We have to go!”

“Shit!” Freddie curses “I’d quite forgotten what a terrible state we left everything in. Christ we’ve been gone for months!”

From his position in the corner John visibly pales “Do you think everyone’s been looking for us? As in, were we missing?”

Roger groans “Fuck. If we were then my mum’s going to kill me” He shrugs his fur jacket up higher on his shoulders and turns to Freddie “Brian’s right. We need to go. And we need to start thinking of some damn good excuses as to why we’ve been non existent for god knows how long”

“You’re not staying?” Asks Jim. Even as the words leave his mouth he feels like a fool for asking.

“Well we can’t exactly share the chair anymore” Reasons Brian

“No you’re right. Of course you can’t” He feels his cheeks flush. Obviously they wouldn't want to stay. They were cats. Now they’re men. Strangers even. They have their own lives to return to. If the same had happened to him… Well he wouldn’t have anyone to reassure except for his employers, who’d likely have fired him after three days of unauthorised absence, but he’s sure that if it had happened to him and he had his own family, tutors etc then he’d be rushing off too.

Sensing his disappointment the curly haired man gives Jim a sympathetic pat on the shoulder on his way past “Thank you Jim, for everything”

Both Roger and John similarly echo the sentiment as they too head for the door. Which leaves only Jim and Freddie in the living room. The latter is opening and closing his mouth numbly, only moving into action when there’s a brief shout of “Fred are you coming?” From the doorway.

With a poignant remorse in his eyes Freddie addresses Jim “We’ll be back. I promise, we just need to… Sort things out”

Slightly dumbstruck Jim just nods. In the space of an hour he’s gone from owning four cats to having an empty house, so unfortunately “Delilah’s” apologetic air does little to soothe his mounting distress.

Escorting Freddie silently into the hallway he sees that Brian, John and Roger are already striding off into the night. Looking over his shoulder with a poignant reluctance and a final insistent “I’m sorry. But I swear we’ll be back dear” Freddie too disappears into the darkness.

And just like that, so suddenly and so brutally, Jim is once again a bachelor stood alone in his dead mother's house. There’s an empty cat bowl in the kitchen. An empty armchair in the living room. And on his bed a copy of the Great Gatsby. Numbly, Jim makes himself a cup of tea. Because in all honesty, else can he do?

If Jim had had to consider the honesty of each of his cats- Not that he would’ve wasted brain power on such a topic, but hypothetically- he would have considered Delilah the least likely candidate for a liar. Hence by extension when Freddie had promised that the group would return after sorting out their affairs he’d assumed that that was indeed the truth.

Apparently not. Two weeks without contact he could understand. But two months must be a sing that the quartet aren’t coming back. It only hurts a little. Well, a lot really.

So much so that he’s had to change his route home so he won’t go past the fateful bus stop. On Sundays he toys with the idea of wandering down to the vintage emporium but he never gets further than thinking about it before he decides that they likely don’t want to see him. Surely if they did they’d have come over to visit by now? More to the point why would they want to? It’s not exactly like they knew him persay, more like they were stuck with him. They didn’t have a choice but to stay with him really.

When there’s no one to greet him in the kitchen in the mornings, no one to watch the tv with in the evenings or share his book with at night, he can’t help but feel down. Lonely even. The desperate emptiness in the house makes him feel sick to his stomach if he lets himself ponder it for even a fraction of a second. So he’s forced to fill his time with mindless distractions. If anything it’s a worse life than the one he lived before the cats entered his life; at least then he didn’t have a clue what he was missing by living on his own.

Watching the football when there’s a sound from outside. A faint sort of knocking that, after a pause, grows louder until it becomes the unmistakable noise of someone at the door.

Having never received visitors this late into the night Jim’s understandably somewhat hesitant as he creeps to the door, but his hesitation evolves into full blown anxiety when he sees who it is waiting for him on the doorstep.

“Freddie?” There, in all his dark haired, wide eyed glory stands the man formerly known as Delilah the street cat. Looking up at Jim from underneath his bangs he immediately opens his mouth as if to say something before rapidly closing it again.

There’s silence. The pair stare at one another for what feels like an eternity.

Then, apparently having forgotten whatever it was he’d been wanting to say, Freddie settles for a somewhat mumbled “May I come in?”

“Of course of course” Jim stands back to invite him into the hallway “Um… Would you like some tea?” He cringes at the stiffness in his voice. It’s only Delilah his beloved cat for goodness sake. And yet it’s with shaking hands that he fills the kettle and asks “How are you?”

“I’m alright thank you” Replies Freddie with something of a rigid British politeness that doesn’t help do anything to ease the tension “It turns out that the spell affected everyone we know, so while we were fretting that our friends and family would be going out of their minds with worry they had no idea we were even missing” He finishes this with a half hearted laugh.

“That’s good to hear” Says Jim. Even though he was hardly listening on account of the fact that all his attention is going into not spilling the scalding water as he nervously pours it into two mugs “And your shop?”

“Fine too. By the time we got back to it it was completely back to normal. No more boards or cobwebs or anything like that” Freddie shoots Jim a nervous smile “And how are you?”

Jim shrugs “You know, same old really”

Having finished making the tea he hands Freddie a cup. The dark haired man accepts it with a small nod and with that a tense silence falls over the kitchen. Funny how they could talk for hours and hours when one of them wasn’t even human. Everything is all wrong.

At a loss for what else to do Jim gestures towards the living room, as if a change of scene will make this any less awkward. Once inside Jim naturally takes the smaller, less desirable seat and offers his guest the armchair. More silence. Thank goodness Jim had made tea because at the very least that’s giving him something to do, but it isn’t helping to dissolve the tension.

“Have the others been to see you?” Asks Freddie. He’s tapping the edge of his cup nervously with a shiny black nail.

“No. No they haven’t” It’s a safe answer. And followed by a hasty swallow of tea it should hopefully cover up the pain that the question raises. No, they haven’t been to see him. Despite the fact that cats or not Jim had thought they were more than passing acquaintances. Surely at the very least they had been friends?

Freddie nods slowly “Don’t mind them. They’re not ungrateful, they’re just… Embarrassed. I think Brian in particular will never get over the humiliation of nearly being sterilised” He takes a sip of his tea “They’ll come around eventually. I think more than anything they just wouldn’t know what to say”

To be fair, Jim at least somewhat understands this. Is there anything you can say to the person who took care of you when you inadvertently transformed into a cat? But then again he’s pretty sure that in that situation regardless of embarrassment he’d at least have it in him to pop over for a visit and say thank you.

“Still reading the Great Gatsby?” Asks Freddie, interrupting Jim’s thought process.

The Irish man nods. Out of all the things that’ve been too painful for him to revisit since his beloved pets left, the novel is something that’s surprisingly still bearable.

“What’ve I missed since I’ve been gone?” Beams Freddie, before chuckling “You know you read so fast I could barely keep up with you most nights?”

Yes, Jim does know. The memories of the way in which Delilah would put her paw on his hand if he went too quickly is enough to elicit a small snigger from him.

“What?” Asks Freddie, looking equal parts amused and apprehensive.

“Nothing. It’s just, I knew you were reading along but at the time I thought I was going mad”

Freddie laughs “How do you think I felt? I was a cat for months dear” Then he smiles, all teeth and no hesitation. A genuine expression of joy that melts the icy atmosphere almost immediately and by extension makes Jim smile too.

“Do you still hate Buchanan?” He asks, recalling how Delilah would hiss whenever the villain of the story did or said something particularly nefarious.

Freddie snorts “Not unless he’s managed to redeem himself in the fifty pages or so you’ve read since I’ve been gone” Then his eyes light up “Oh! I think we should read The Portrait of Dorian Grey next. Roger’s always banging on about it” He’s grinning but suddenly he freezes, the smile on his face dying instantly as he presumably realises his pronoun related error and its implications “Or rather you should read it. I mean we can both read it but-”

“Reading it together would be fun” Reassures Jim gently, even though internally he’s secretly ecstatic that Freddie wants to spend more time with him “It’d be nice to know what you actually think of the characters and plot without having to interpret everything you’re trying to say”

“Yes you might be right” Grins the dark haired man.

And this is how they fall into an easy conversation about everything under the sun from clothes to music to food to (of course) cats, that lasts until the sky outside is dark and rain is pelting down in icy sheets. Further, a quick glance at the clock reveals that it’s gone ten. Time flies as they say.

Freddie sighs, slapping his knees and pushing himself up off the chair “I suppose I ought to get going really. Else I’ll be walking through the center of London during the small hours, and I’d quite like to avoid being stabbed to death on my way home” He chuckles but there’s a very clear apprehension in his eyes. Understandably given that regardless of how unlikely getting stabbed probably is, the rain is now accompanied by periodic crashes of thunder and a gale that’s making the windows quiver.

“Where abouts do you live?” Asks Jim, he himself standing and following Freddie towards the door “I could give you a lift if you’d like” Delilah might not be his cat any longer but nevertheless the idea of her (human or not) out in this weather is almost unthinkable.

Freddie waves a hand dismissively “Oh don’t be ridiculous. Thank you, but you really don’t have to. I’ll be fine” He tugs the front door open. Almost immediately however he's absolutely battered by the storm, with the wind in particular raging so violently that even from where Jim’s standing further down the hall it’s like being slapped viscously slapped across the face.

He looks to Freddie. The dark haired man is shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, gaze flicking from the rain to Jim and back again sheepishly. For a split second Jim’s put in mind of the first night Delilah had snuck into his bedroom, but he tries to brush this thought aside.

“I totally understand if you don’t want me to but, well…” Freddie takes a deep breath and somewhat blurts out “Would you mind if I stayed the night? Only Rog is staying with his mum so the flat’ll be empty when I get back and this weather is absolutely abysmal and I- ”

Jim cuts his off with a gentle smile “It’s absolutely fine. No trouble at all” Hopefully the nonchalance in his words can hide how utterly desperate he’s been for company since his four house pets left him.

However the way in which Freddie’s face splits into a smile (again all teeth and sparkling eyes) at the invitation suggests Jim need not have worried about seeming too needy. This arrangement appears to be one that both of them were equally hopeful for.

“Thank you dear” Grins the smaller man, stepping back into the hallway and pulling the frontdoor closed behind him “I suppose I’ll just take the armchair then…?”

“Freddie, we shared a bed for months when you were a cat. You can come upstairs if you want” Again there’s that need to avoid coming accross as desperate or clingy or weird, but once more Freddie beams at the suggestion.

“Thank you” He smiles, in a way that suggests this was what he’d wanted but had been too afraid to ask for. Then something that’s almost embarrassment clouds Freddie’s face “This might sound a little ridiculous but I’ve missed you. I promise I did think about coming to see you sooner. I thought about it a lot actually, but I didn’t know if you’d want to see me”

Jim shrugs “I knew roughly where you were. I’m sorry I didn’t come looking for you either” And he really means it. So much pain could’ve been saved had he just bucked up and gone to see his former pets, but sadly he’s not that sort of person. Not that it matters now, what matters is that at least for tonight he’s no longer lonely. Holding his arms out he invites the other man into a hug, which Freddie graciously falls into. “I missed you too”

**Roughly One Year Or So Later**

Jim’s last birthday had been an isolated affair. Celebrating on his own with a small cupcake from the overpriced bakery near his house and a glass of some vintage sherry that had once been the treasured possession of his father, he’d consoled himself with the thought that even something so small as a meal with his close friends (not that he’d had any, but again, hypothetically speaking) would have required far more money to put together than he had. Not to mention how much time the cleanup would take. No, a birthday to himself was far better.

However today Jim’s delighted to see his former self proven wrong. For not only have Brian, John, Roger and Freddie paid for the entirety of this, his twenty fifth birthday celebration, out of their royalties, but they’ve also cleaned the entire kitchen from top to bottom. Apparently an arduous job given that the former three are now passed out asleep on Jim’s newly acquired sofa.

Well, newly might be the wrong word; it’s tattered and stained and was almost certainly fished out of a skip by John and Roger. But nevertheless it was a present and Jim wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Especially not now it’s occupied by three of his closest friends and, arguably more importantly, three kittens. There’s four cats in total: Oscar, Romeo, Clyde and Delilah, each one a birthday gift for Jim from their human counterparts. And while granted these cats are far less interesting than their predecessors it feels good for Jim to not have to have some sort of normality in his life. He’s had enough magic and curses and strange cats to last him a lifetime thank you very much.

Surveying the scene his gaze falls next on Freddie, who’s curled up on the armchair with Delilah Jr on his lap. Even from the doorway Jim can hear him cooing softly at her, just small snippets of nonsense about how pretty she is and how much he loves her. It’s so very sweet and Jim feels a smile tug at the edges of his mouth.

Approaching the chair quietly from behind Jim leans over and softly places a kiss on the top of Freddie’s head.

The dark haired man looks up at him with a grin “What?”

“Nothing” Jim leans over to give him another quick kiss, this one on the lips “You ready for bed?”

Freddie nods. As gently as he can he eases Delilah Jr off his lap and stands up, stretching out the cramps in his muscles “What’re we reading tonight dear? We could start Pride and Prejudice, or we could reread some of Gatsby, or we could have a look at that gastly review someone gave Queen in the Sunday Times this week” He offers that last suggestion with such an enthusiasm that he might as well be talking about a glowing five star report.

“Your choice. I don’t mind” Jim holds his hand out and his boyfriend takes it eagerly.

“Review it is then” Grins Freddie

Hand in hand (and with Delilah Jr following suit) the couple make their way upstairs, leaving their sleeping friends in the peace of the darkness of the living room.

As he’s being led to bed it occurs to Jim how truly lucky he’s been. He’s lost four incredibly weird cats but gained three friends, a boyfriend, and ultimately four significantly less weird cats. And a sofa. And honestly? That’s enough for him.

Funny though, how ultimately it was more of a blessing than a curse.

The End.

Bonus- Just for fun here’s some of the cat bits translated into what I imagine the members of Queen were saying.

**Opening scene******

Jim: *Greeting cat Freddie*

Freddie: Oh, hello. Well you’re very handsome. I must say, it’s a shame I’m a cat else I’d ask you out

Everyone else: *Arrives*

Roger: Where the fuck have you been?

Freddie: *Backing away behind Jim* Nice to see you too Rog

Brian: Fred what the hell were you thinking! This is bad enough as it is without you swanning off and getting yourself run over or killed by a stray dog or-

Freddie: Come on Brian, I was only saying hello!

John: You were gone for half an hour

Freddie: Was I really? Wow time really does fly when you’re-

The rest of Queen: *Interrupts with various shouts of disappointment*** **

** **

** ** **Trying to get Jim to follow them****** ** **

Freddie: Fuck this would be so much easier if I wasn’t a damn cat. Come this way!

Roger: Is he moronic? Because I don’t think this is working

Freddie: Well we don’t have a choice. Just keep hitting him

John: *Through a mouthful of Jim’s trousers* Yes because it’s working so well :/

** ** ** ** ** **

** ** ** ** **About to leave for the vets****** ** ** ** **

Freddie: I’ll just come with you I suppose… Don’t mind me *Gets dragged out by Jim*  
Or not.

Roger: *Getting dragged out by Jim* Fuck you fuck you fuck you….

John: *Sneaking in* Am I the only one of us with a set of functioning brain cells?

Brian: *Watching Roger and Freddie get shut in the kitchen* Yes. Is that even a question?

** ** ** ** ** ** **At the vets** ** ** ** ** ** **

Brian: *While the vet is cleaning out his leg* Fuck my life.

Vet: *Talking about neutering Brian*

Brian: Oh fuck no! For fucks sake don’t do that! John!

John: What do you want me to do?

Brian: I don’t know! Tip the cage over! Just don’t let them-

Jim: *Something about not neutering Bri*

Brian: Thank fuck

John: *Totally stunned* Bri they nearly-

Brian: I know

John: They were going to-

Brian: Yes, thank you John! >:/

John:.....

John: Roger and Freddie are going to-

Brian: If you say anything to either of those two I swear I’m going to chuck your bass out my flat widow************** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **Back at Jim’s house** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Freddie: So they didn’t put you down then?

Brian: Thankfully not

John: They did try to neuter him though

Brian: John!

Roger: They what??

Brian: Thanks John :/

John: You’re welcome :D

Freddie and Roger: *absolutely howling with laughter*

Brian: Fuck my life

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **In Jim’s garden****** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Jim: *Names Freddie Delilah*

Freddie: Ooh Delilah’s nice. It’s what I’d call my cat, if I had one. Not exactly what I’d call myself but I suppose I don’t exactly get a say in all this

Jim: *Names Brian Oscar*

Freddie: Ooooh, see that’s very nice too. You should name cats more often, you have something of a knack for it. What do you think Brian?

Brian: *opening one eye* I guess it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s not like I can tell him that’s not my name is it?

Jim: *Names Deaky and Roger*

Freddie: Good names. Don’t let Rog hear that you’ve called him Romeo though else I’ll never hear the end of it. He’s full of himself as it is already

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **Meanwhile…****** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Roger: Oh fuck! Deaky look, I’ve never seen a frog this close up before

John: It’s not moving. Are you sure it’s not dead?

Roger: *Moves paw in vague direction of frog* Nah it’s fine, look

John: Oh yeah************************** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **After the frog chasing….** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

John: *Being fussed over by Freddie* What?

Freddie: Nothing, I’m just looking at you. You make a surprisingly cute cat Deaky. How was chasing the frog?

John: A lot more fun and a lot less weird than it would’ve been if we were still two fully grown men

Jim: *Stands up to leave*

Roger: Bri! Brian I think we’re going in now. You should probably get up

Brian: Sod off Rog

Roger: Oy! I’m just trying to help

Freddie: He’s right dear. You don’t want to be left outside in the rain do you?  
Come on, you’ll be able to sleep inside

Brian: I can sleep fine out here. Just leave me

Jim: *Picks him up*

Brian: >:/

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **In Jim’s bedroom later****** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Freddie: *Pushes door open* I know you can’t understand me but I can’t sleep, and well I thought I might come and see what you were doing. I hope you don’t mind

Freddie: Ooh what’re you reading? Oh the Great Gatsby, I’ve never read it but it does sound good I must admit

Jim: *Goes to turn page*

Freddie: *Holds Jim’s hand still with his paw* No no wait a second! I haven’t quite finished the page

Jim: You’re a very strange cat

Freddie: If only you knew the half of it dear

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **The bath scene****** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Jim: *Turns the tap off in a very bemused manner*

Freddie: Ah, thank you. Sorry, we managed to get the tap on but we couldn’t work out how to get the bloody thing off again

Freddie: Rog, why don’t you test the water to see if it’s alright? *Pushes him in*

John: *falls in* Fuck.

Brian: *Rolling his eyes* I don’t know how this is my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve this.

**Author's Note:**

> Most of you have probably already read emma_and_orlando's fics but if you haven't then I can't recommend them enough 💗 Also she's an absolute treasure and she deserves so much love for putting up with me complaining about this fic to her every day for the last month xx


End file.
